


His Father's Son

by daisyisawriter91



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Ghosts, Past Character Death, Self-Doubt, Sokka is a good dad, Varrick isn't a war monger bc i said so, everyone else is only lightly mentioned, ish, this is about a FATHER AND SON
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:07:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26626459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisyisawriter91/pseuds/daisyisawriter91
Summary: In light of the events he was about to set into motion, Varrick visits somewhere he knows will bring him some peace going forward in the Water Tribe civil war.His father's grave.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), Varrick & Sokka, mentions of others - Relationship
Comments: 10
Kudos: 102





	His Father's Son

Very rarely did Varrick travel back to one of his home countries, these days. He had many responsibilities to attend to, including a _civil war_ in his other home country.

But this...this weighed on his soul, heavy and uncomfortable. He needed to talk to the only man in the world who could possibly understand what his brain was subjected to.

The memorial for Sokka of the Water Tribe was as decorated as usual, beautiful flowers and ever burning incense. Servants and diplomats and royals alike paid their respects at the memorial.  
None more so than his children. Varrick could see a newly carved horn from Izumi resting below the portrait of their father.

One thing Varrick hadn’t missed about the Fire Nation was how bloody _hot_ it was. He’d shed off all but one layer immediately upon his arrival.  
Though, he supposed showing his tattoos didn’t bother him, much. Nor did wearing his hair up like his father had taught him.  
He tended to forget how similar he looked to Sokka. This was, of course, intentional. But when he looked as he did, it was impossible to deny.

He was his father’s son.

“Hey, Pops,” He greeted. He shifted on the grass, uncomfortably. He’d never been very good at talking to the smiling picture, a frozen memory of the greatest man Varrick had ever known.

“I know there’s a lot of important stuff going on that I should be dealing with, but...I had to talk to you. I just miss talking to you face to face. Little hard talking to a dead guy.” He huffed at his own attempt at a joke.

He picked up his cup of tea, jasmine, and took a careful sip. It tasted of home.  
He supposed the fact that he was home hadn’t settled on him yet. But with the taste of jasmine and the smell of ginger, it came crashing down on him all at once.

If he strained his ears, he could almost hear Izumi’s young adult self playing hide and seek with him and their fathers. He could still hear Dad’s raspy voice singing a lullaby to him, could still smell Pops’s home cooking.

Spirits, he missed this.

Varrick heaved a heavy sigh, letting his posture relax. “Listen. I almost did something really bad. I thought about it for just a minute too long. Then I heard your voice in my head, telling me how bad an idea it was. How it went against everything you two taught me. And inner you was right.”

A soft breeze drifted through the trees, ruffling his hair. It was freshly shaved underneath.

“I had a whole plan. I’d blow up a building and frame it on the Northern Water Tribe. Then I’d send assassins after the president. Saying it out loud, now, I can’t believe I ever thought I could do that. You’d be so disappointed in me.” Varrick looked down at his hands. “Sometimes I wonder if you would be, anyways.”

His mind swam with thousands of ideas. Maybe he would get some clarity if he told a stupid portrait.  
But nothing would ever match the real thing.  
Nothing would ever match the warm, calloused hand on his shoulder, or gentle blue eyes filled with understanding, or sage advice. Nothing could even come close to matching his father.

“I just want to help our tribe. As far away from it as I am, I’ll always be connected to it. And Unalaq is going to destroy our entire culture if I don’t do something. I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing. You were always better at the peaceful stuff. You lied when you said I’d get better at it.”

He could almost feel Sokka’s eyes on him. Not judgemental, simply listening and attempting to understand. 

“I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about going by my first name again, to...make my stance clear. I’ve built a life for myself as Varrick. But sometimes I wonder what sort of message I would have been sending as Iknik. It was the name you chose for me, after all. I just wanted to establish myself as somebody else. Not the son of war heroes. I wanted to be my own man.”

Varrick sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. His heart sank when nothing at all happened. He wasn’t precisely sure what he’d been hoping for, what he’d been expecting. But somehow he was disappointed that nothing happened.

“You’re usually more talkative. I get that trait from you, y’know. We used to drive Dad and Izumi up the wall with how much we talked.” Varrick chuckled at the memory that rose in his mind. “Do you remember the time we talked about bears and bear hybrids all day until Izumi locked us in the library? Dad had to come and rescue us, on the condition that we’d never even whisper the word ‘bear’ in the palace, again. And technically, I’m upholding that, seeing as I’m in the courtyard.”

Every attempt at levity fell flat, even to his own ears. 

“All I want is to make you proud. On my own, through my own merits. And I can safely say I failed miserably at that.”  
“Where’d you get that idea?”

Varrick must have jumped out of his skin at the entrance of the new voice. A voice he hadn’t heard in years outside of half buried memories.

There, in blue translucence, was Sokka. He sat cross legged in front of his memorial, a kind smile on his face.

Surely, he was dreaming. This _couldn’t_ be happening. He couldn’t be seeing his father, right in the...spirit?  
Well, he supposed weirder things had happened. Maybe the spirit portal made this possible.  
Still, it was near impossible to believe.

“Pops?” Varrick murmured.  
“Hi, kiddo.” Sokka greeted, his smile widening with mirth, accentuating the etched in laughter lines Varrick remembered so well.   
“I...wasn’t expecting to see you.” He stammered, knowing keenly how stupid he sounded. Though, he supposed he came by it honestly.

Stories of “that’s rough, buddy” and “do an activity” circled his mind, unbidden.

“Well, you came to see me, and I managed to sneak some time out so you actually _could_ see me. Pretty cool, right?”  
“Any other time and I’d insist on studying it. But there are more important things going on, and you’re...you’re the only person I can talk to about them.”

Sokka preened, a familiar smug expression settling on his face. “Really? Not your dad?”  
“Considering he’s still fighting new recruits on their first day to keep his skills sharp, I’m not sure I can trust him to be a pragmatist.”

If it was possible for a spirit to blanche, Sokka did. He smacked his forehead, roughly, and let out an overexaggerated sigh.  
“That idiot is in his _eighties_. I guess some things never change.” Yet his tone dripped with fondness.   
It was odd to see a frozen in time Sokka so fond of an old man, who looked nearly thirty years his senior.

Sokka cleared his throat, noticing the sudden lull, and carried on. “I already know the situation, don’t worry about explaining. And I know how tempting it must have been to do something so drastic. I’m proud of you for choosing not to.”

A sudden weight was lifted off Varrick’s shoulders all at once. His father was proud of him.  
 _Sokka was proud of him._  
It eased the ache in his mind he’d carried ever since the thought occurred to him.

Sokka carried on. If he noticed the tension easing from his son, he decided not to comment on it. “That’s a difficult choice for anyone to make. You won’t regret choosing a more peaceful path, but as to what that path might be, I’m not sure.”

He raised his hand to his chin, thoughtfully.

“This president isn’t a good man, but he’s necessary to save the tribe. You may have to play on what little empathy he has. I’d prefer everything to be on the level, but a little manipulation is the only way to win this fight.”  
“Play on his empathy…” Varrick murmured.

He had an idea. He snapped his fingers and grinned at his father, triumphant. “That’s it! I’ve got it! Pops, you’re a life saver.”  
“So they tell me,” Sokka looked equally as pleased.

His face softened once more as he took in Varrick’s appearance. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, Iknik.”

The sound of his name was enough to nearly shatter him. He could feel his eyes beginning to sting.

“I’ve missed you too, Pops. It hasn’t been the same without you around. Certainly a lot less fun.”  
Sokka snorted. “Your dad can be a stick in the mud, sometimes. He was worse when we were teenagers. Izumi got all of her severity from Mr. Brood, himself.”  
“Who does math for _fun?!_ ” Varrick exclaimed. Sokka looked positively vindicated.  
“I know, right?!” He laughed lightly to himself. “But from what I understand, Korra and her group are a new source of entertainment. Particularly the earthbender. Bolin, right?”

At the mention of Bolin, Varrick smiled. Some part of him had taken to Bolin as the partner in crime he never had.  
Something of a little brother. A nephew. Maybe even a son?  
Varrick shook his head to clear his mind of those thoughts. It didn’t matter what Bolin was to him. He just knew he was fond of the kid.

“That kid’s going places, I’ll say it right now. You would like him.”  
“I would. You and I have very similar tastes in friends, you know.”

After an easy silence had settled over them, Varrick soon realized this couldn’t last forever. He could feel thorns uncomfortably embedding in his chest.  
“I want to see Izumi and Zuko before I have to leave. I have to go now. I’m sorry.”  
The sorrow in his voice was something Varrick distinctly did _not_ like.

“Thanks for hearing me out, Pops. I hope I can see you soon. If you’re ever in Republic City!”  
Drawing another laugh from Sokka felt like a victory.

He reached across the divide and laid his hand lightly on Varrick’s shoulder. If he concentrated, he could almost feel its presence.  
“I’m proud of you, Iknik. Know that, if nothing else. I love you, and I’m so, so proud of you.”  
Varrick felt a lump settle in his throat, his eyes stinging harder than before.

He missed Sokka more than he thought, it seemed.  
“Thanks, Pops.”  
When Varrick blinked, Sokka was gone, leaving Varrick alone once more.

With a deep breath and a rough scrape of his sleeve across his eyes, Varrick stood, dusted himself, and headed back inside.

There was work to be done, after all.  
The storm inside his mind had eased. All he needed was the heat of the Fire Nation, the taste of jasmine tea, and warm blue eyes that always seemed to understand.

Zhu Li was waiting inside for him. He had asked her to leave him to his privacy in one of the rare moments he dismissed her.  
She perked up upon seeing him, a hint of concern and more than a little curiosity in her gaze. He flashed her a grin in response. 

“Zhu Li! It’s time to do the thing! We have a war to win!”


End file.
